Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes
by Roo1965
Summary: more of Jack's recovery after Iraq. Febjuly 2006. JackSara.Pre series. sequel to Iraq and Blackbeard stories.
1. Chapter 1

Sequel/series info: 3rd in series after **Iraq: hounds of love sequence **and **Blackbeard**  
Content Level: 15+  
Content warnings: language, implied m/m (I never pretended that J/S was all pretty rainbows and apple pie….)

Summary: More of the story dealing with Jack's recovery from captivity - set in and around **Blackbeard.  
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Caught in the monkey jar : Blackbeard Interludes by Roo**

**Comfortably numb (Pink Floyd)**

**Military hospital**

Jack O'Neill was glad to get out of the house, but hated the idea of being _here_ even more. The physical therapy was a given and something he'd done many times before. But the 'other' was mandatory and he'd put it off long enough. Keep calm he told himself. Deep breaths. Although his knee brace had gone, and the sling for his shoulder was gone too he still wasn't allowed to drive. The indignity of a designated driver picking him up from home also made him mad with the world. Sara would have driven him without question, but she'd want to make small talk and fill in the silent gaps with chatter. He didn't want chatter. He needed space before and after his PT sessions and definitely after 'these' sessions.

God, but he was tired and hungry. Stop it. Don't. Don't think about food. Mouth-watering food. Not the …muck he'd had over….don't _go_ there. Too late, now he was thirsty. Always thirsty. The novelty of water any time, all the time. Not like…stop it. Calm deep breaths. He read the nameplate again. "Dr (Colonel) Stephen Marwood, Psychologist." Like he hadn't already memorised every etched curve and straight line in the shiny brass.

He wasn't wacko, or at least he didn't think so. Looking back he remembered the confusion and bewilderment freedom had brought him. Confused, he lashed out at his rescuers and only told them his name rank and number like he'd told it a million times before. He wouldn't give them any other names, convinced it was all a trick. _They_ injected him with something and when he woke up he seemed to be tied to a bed, attached to monitors and tubing.

So yes, maybe he'd gone a little nuts then.

After that everything was fuzzy and strange, like he was swimming under water. He was so tired and in pain all the time. He hung on desperately. He just wanted go home to his family. Days passed without him remembering details .They spoke to him but he couldn't process it. It was all too fast. He didn't understand what was going on or where he was. So he said nothing, and waited for an opportunity to escape. They told him he _was_ back home, that everything was alright, that he was ill because of powerful infections. But he didn't believe them. Escape and finish the mission, that's all he had to do- then he could go home.

He struggled out of the bed, hanging on for life to IV poles and chairs with one hand. Geez but he looked like a mummy, bandages everywhere. Some sort of brace round his knee and part way round his back and right shoulder, thick padding on his feet. Shuffling slowly to the door and opening it and peering out was a revelation. Maybe he was dreaming this after all, delirious like they'd told him? But this was a huge hospital, clean and bright, muted tones on the walls, overhead speakers calling doctors and making announcements. He clung to the door and edged out. People. Normal people, not in tunics and headscarves. American looking people. And many of them were in uniform, one or two wearing USAF T-shirts even. He swallowed hard.

Someone came towards him. Familiar but his mind refused to co-operate. "Jack!" it couldn't be, but it was. His friend, his nemesis, his traitor. Frank Cromwell. Frank reached for him but he backed away, lost his balance and all the pain and hurt surged up and he fell into blackness.

The second time Frank tried to see him at the hospital Jack hit him with his water jug. He'd almost fallen out of his bed going for his throat, machines beeping and wailing in the background, staff rushing in…. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and he hadn't changed his mind about that opinion since he'd got back home.

Jack sighed heavily, cleared his throat and picked at the seam of his pants, back in the here and now. The doc was going to try an open him up like a can opener. Let it all out. Wasn't going to happen. More like stick it in the pan and let it burn all to hell. _You can have everything you want, except what you want._

He'd given them the abbreviated version in pieces at the first and second hospitals. He managed to be clear enough just to nod or shake his head, which was all he could at the time, round the dental surgery. He was pretty sure he hadn't told them anything he shouldn't despite the pain and drugs he'd been on at the time. So they'd had the basics- now they wanted infinite detail. They'd just have to be grateful with what he could give them. Almost but not quite everything. It was all he had. Some of the story was his to bear witness to and carry alone. They didn't need to know everything. He'd had to be strong to survive. Just one more door to go through, one more hoop to jump. He was a good soldier. This would be a piece of cake. Easy. But he knew he was lying to himself.

He sorted through his memory for solutions and techniques and reviewed his options again. Yup. Sure that this plan would fly. He could do this. A little at a time, enough to get them going. He knew he needed help but only on his terms. Be patient. Maybe he had a few issues and lost marbles, but that's what the doc was for right? His heart jumped as the door opened. Time for the games to begin.

"Major O'Neill, I'm just going to set a few ground rules okay?" His latest patient stared back at him. The doctor sat in one of the armchairs, a notepad open on his knee, pencil tucked into the spiral.

"Major, I'd like to hear you speak or at least nod so that I know you can hear me." He took the slight nod for what it was and continued.

"Nothing you do or say to me here in this room goes anywhere else unless I deem it a medical emergency. I am conversant with your history and I'm here to help you deal with what happened to you. I'm Colonel Marwood, but I'm also a fully qualified doctor in psychotherapy and psychology and I've been in the service for twenty three years. The door is shut but not locked and we can open the window for more air if you'd like. The fridge in the corner has water bottles if you need any."

The room was deliberately non threatening. More like a lounge with comfortable chairs, a couch and a coffee table. In one corner a desk was angled, with a phone and piled high in/out trays, Dictaphone on top and filing cabinets nearby. The pictures on the walls were not the usual military ones of planes and flags and the President, but gentle woodland forests and waterfalls instead.

Still getting no reaction the doctor got up and took a bottle of water from the fridge and placed it on the coffee table. His patient looked at it and then back at him, watching and waiting. The doctor continued to explain what the sessions were for, how long they'd last but he knew that O'Neill wasn't following him. He was lost in his thoughts far away, but every now and then he'd look at the condensation on the outside of the water bottle like a starving man. He wanted it but did not ask for it, nor did he just take it. He sat there tired, in pain and struggling to adapt to normal life now that he was back in the real world again. He didn't want to be there and it showed.

The next session a few days later a crack appeared and the doc lightly probed to see how deep the crack went and how to repair it without his patient shattering. O'Neill limped in, all spit and bravado when the doc could see how tightly reined in he really was. And in the end it was nothing the doctor did, O'Neill did it to himself.

"Okay start the clock doc. I'm all yours."

"Are you sure? You look…"

"What? Had a tough PT session that's all." But the doctor noted the grimace of pain when O'Neill sat back against the comfortable chair.

"The therapy is supposed to get range of motion back not re injure you."

"I can handle a little pain doc."

"You don't have to, and you're not supposed to hurt that much after therapy."

"Thanks but I'll take the pain over any drugs of choice."

"Interesting answer. Why?"

"Because I've been through this before."

"Ah, yes the injuries you sustained when a parachute failed to open properly."

"Oh yeah. That." The doc noticed that O'Neill really did look drained and in fact was beginning to struggle to stay awake.

"Tell me how you got through that."

"Why?"

"Humour me."

"I just picked myself up, buried the chute best I could. Used some for bandages and headed out. No idea what happened some of the time, but mostly I was just aiming to get the intel out, and then go home, one step at a time."

"Like in Iraq?"

"If I could have walked home from there I would have doc. But they…. stopped me. They stopped us from doing our job."

"Who did?"

"You know! I already told you. I'm not telling you anything!"

"Why won't you tell me?"

"O'Neill, Jonathon, Major."

"Tell me what you see."

"No! O'Neill Jonathon, Major."

"Jack, you're not over there. You're home with your family, on the base. You got out. You made it home."

"No! Trick. Trap. Liar."

"Open your eyes if you don't believe me."

"You're the liar; I'm the one with the hood over my head and tied to the chair!"

"No you're not. Feel the chair you're sitting in. It's soft, comfortable isn't it? Open your eyes and see for yourself." His patient did open his eyes but he still wasn't seeing the here and now.

"Okay so you took the hood off."

"Would you like some water? I'm placing a bottle in your hand, you sound thirsty." No answer. O'Neill's hands refused to grip the bottle.

"Why won't you take the water?"

"O'Neill, Jonathon, Major. Think you can bribe me with the water?"

"Not really."

"It's still daylight."

"What has that to do with anything?"

"This is another trick right? Fool me into drinking without permission again?"

"What happened?"

"You know! We all know! We were all punished!"

"Just drink the water."

"No! Did you put salt in it again? It's too early, not dark yet."

The doctor went over to the window and pulled a dark blind down, muting the daylight.

"Is it okay now?" O'Neill looked round at the window and nodded.

"There's plenty of water in the fridge over there. New seals on them, never been opened before. Trust me."

O'Neill got up and slowly went to the fridge; he opened the door and stood looking at the contents for a long time. He reached in and held a bottle, struggled to open it and seemed to have difficulty using one arm. In the end he used his teeth on the plastic screw cap. After the first tentative sip he drank the whole bottle thirstily. And before the doctor could say anything he grabbed another and drank that. He leaned against the fridge breathing heavily. The doctor went over to him as he started to open the third bottle and slowly raised the blind on the window.

"Jack. It's okay to have the water whenever you want it- day or night okay? Just don't overdo it. The cleaning services really hate getting stains out of the carpet in here."

"Weren't we just talking about something else doc?" O'Neill put the bottle down abruptly.

"How's the water Major?"

"Ah. It's fine, what time is it?"

"We still have a few minutes left. Finish your water."

"I've had enough thanks. I'll save this for later".


	2. Chapter 2

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**Love is a battlefield… (Pat Benetar)**

"Take Charlie swimming….you promised you'd take him."

"Not today I don't feel like it."

"You need to get off the couch Jack. That bad cold and cough went ages ago."

"I don't want to go - alright."

"But he wants you to take him. You love swimming, he'd be better with you."

"No!"

"Why?"

"Because."

"What?"

"You take him."

"But..."

"NO! I don't care. I'm not going. That's final." And he walked out of the house.

Sara was torn between anger and tears. Shit. She'd messed that one up. Too soon. She realised. What was she going to tell Charlie? Of course he wouldn't go swimming, you idiot, she berated herself, he doesn't even undress in front of you. He's not going to go around half naked in swim shorts for Charlie. If he didn't want to show his scars she couldn't make him. Not when he couldn't even acknowledge them to himself.

Sure he'd been ill after the storm and standing out in the rain. But it had taken longer than expected for him to recover and had left him lethargic and maybe a little depressed. He didn't seem to want to do anything. He'd sit in the garden but not look after it as he used to. He'd been looking forward to helping teach Charlie to swim; now he seemed reluctant. He'd go for physio at the hospital but had refused or ignored any attempts by other friends for light games of street hockey. Normally (ha, she laughed at herself) he'd jump at the chance. He drifted.

**Military hospital**

"You seem angry today Major. Things okay at home?"

"Fine."

"How's Sara?"

"She's fine."

"And your son Charlie?"

"Look, he's fine too-can you leave them out of this?"

"Does Sara take Charlie swimming now?"

"Yes."

"You know it would be good for you as well, in addition to your therapies here."

"Well it ain't gonna happen doc."

"Why not?"

"You know damn well why…sir."

"But the water is chlorinated. It's a swimming pool Major, not a hose or a bucket or sink full of water. It won't taste the same. No one is going to force you to drink it or try and drown you. We've been through this before."

"Easy for you to say. What if I _lost_ it? Not with my son…I can't…Sara would…."

"But you manage water therapy as part of your PT."

"That's different and you know it."

"Look- you'd be in the toddler pool with your son. You'd be quite safe. You'd be in control."

"You don't know that. What if…"

"Life is full of what if's. It's how you deal with them that matters."

"And we know how well I'm dealing…I'll just leave it till I'm feeling better…"

"Better than what? Are you feeling bad, Major O'Neill?"

"Major O'Neill, please answer the question."

The door slammed shut and the doctor opened the patient's file, jotting down notes on the session concluding (not for the first time) with the words- patient terminated session.


	3. Chapter 3

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**Heroes and villains- (the beach boys.)**

"Frank! This is a surprise!" said Sara warily "Today might not be a good day…"

"Hell Sara, none of them have been that great apart from when Jack touched down on US soil again..."

"Yeah."

"He in?"

"In back. You can try but don't say that I didn't warn you."

"That thing at the hospital was a while ago now…"

"I heard all about it."

Jack was in the kitchen -it was time for his antibiotics and painkillers. He got the small bottles out, struggling with the childproof caps. He stopped and listened for a minute. Sara was fighting his battles for him like he wasn't there, invisible, useless dammit. Treating him like he was an invalid.

"Uncle Frank, unca Frank!" yelled Charlie.

"Charlie my boy, lookin' good…"

That did it. Jack limped as fast as he could round the side of the house to the front.

"Jack." said Frank uncertainly. Charlie's arms still wrapped round his neck.

"Charlie, come here now!"

"But unc Frank's here! We havin a barbeque daddy?"

"No. Go away Frank. Told you once. I never want to see you again."

"Jack, listen to me!"

"NO! I already heard plenty. Put my son down and walk away from me, my kid and my wife."

"Daddy?" Charlie didn't understand what was going on as Frank gently let him down.

"Sorry Charlie. I love you. . I tried to help your dad remember that."

Jack took two steps nearer, and Frank raised his hands in surrender.

"I'm going if that's what you really want, but under protest."

"I don't care."

Sara looked at Jack and back at Frank, torn. She stepped closer and gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek "You tried, he'll come round. Give it time. Take care Frank."

"You too."

"Don't go, unca Frank!"

"Got my marching orders, son. I only stopped by anyway…"

"Are you coming back?"

"I don't know, Charlie."

"Why not?"

"That depends on your dad," he glanced back at Jack who was still glowering at them all.

"Daddy, why can't unc Frank stay today?" but Jack didn't answer.

Frank knew he was only making things worse by staying. He turned round and walked back to his car.

Charlie followed him.

"Charlie, come back!" called Jack, and he set off across the grass after his son. But before he'd gone more than a step or two Sara asked him.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting Charlie."

"What are you're going to do? Drag him back?"

"So what DO you want me to do?"

"He's five years old, he doesn't understand why his Uncle Frank can't come round anymore just because you say so. If you can explain it to him, please tell me, I need to understand. This is hard for Frank and Nancy too."

"Seems like you care more about Frank's feelings, what happens to him or what he wants!" said Jack hotly. Frank heard and walked back towards the couple.

"That was a low blow, even for you Jack. Leave Sara out of it. Just you and me. Apologise to Sara or I will kick your ass - injured or not, you stupid son of a bitch."

Charlie unsettled by the yelling and byplay ran back to Sara's protection.

"I don't have to do anything you say, not since you left me for dead!" Sara got worried as the two men squared up to each other.

"I told you…"

"Shut up!"

Fortunately the base hospital van arrived before it got ugly, and Sara hated ugly. They'd all forgotten it was his regular appointment at the base hospital for therapy. Jack felt embarrassed, especially as Frank was right there this time. The driver got out and opened the sliding door, waiting for Jack to get in.

"Looks like your ride is here, Jack," said Frank with a neutral face. He did not pity Jack, he just wanted him to get better so he could have his friend back.

"Like you care!" spat Jack, not moving an inch. "Six months and it still ain't fuckin'over! Don't you get it yet, Frank?"

"Okay, I'm going! No use talking to you when you're like this. Talk to me when you've calmed down." and Frank got in his car and drove away in a squeal of rubber.

"The hell I will!" Jack called after him before turning back to the house.

"Aren't you going?" Sara nodded towards the van

"No!"

"Jack, you have to go…"

"Oh for crying out loud!" and he limped back to the van "Happy now?" he called as it drove off.

Sara spent the time until he came back trying to console Charlie. She was angry at Jack for hurting everybody. She understood his reasons but surely he could forgive? She had something else to be angry about when she went into the kitchen later. She waited for him to return. The wait was shorter than usual. She didn't pity him, she tried not to mollycoddle him, but she had to tell him about the pills.

She waited until he was inside the house and Charlie was playing in the garden out back before asking him how he was, as he slowly made his way to the couch. PT did him good but was painful and tiring. She filled a glass with water and placed it in front of him.

"Actually, I'm kinda wiped," he said as he picked up the glass.

"I'm not surprised, what with Frank turning up and then doing PT. Did you take your pills before coming out?"

"Yeah, I think…….oh…"

"You left them open on the counter in the kitchen. It's okay I put them away."

"Sara, I never meant to leave them out. I saw Frank out the front..."

"And you saw red, I know. And we agreed to have some medications downstairs as long as they were out of Charlie's reach."

"It won't happen again."

"I know it won't. Just thought I'd mention it."

"No wonder PT was such a pain in the ass today. I was supposed to take those pills." He started to get up.

"No- I'll get them, and more water. You're settled."

"I'm sorry, really sorry for what I said earlier. You don't deserve that from me- or anyone come to that. And about the pills. But as for Frank, I can't… Not yet, it's too soon like some other things. But I'm not giving in."

"It's not a matter of giving in. You've been back two and a bit months, Jack. Give it some time. What about Charlie? I've spoken to him but you need to talk to him too."

"I'll think of something."

"Can you talk to him soon before he thinks it's something he did?"

Jack stirred on the lounger; he'd heard something inside the house. The something appeared at the corner of his vision. "Daddy." it said. He let out his breath.

"What's up kiddo, it's very late."

"Can't sleep, daddy."

"Oh."

"Mommy was asleep, an' you weren't there so I looked for you."

Charlie suddenly shivered, barefoot in his pj's.

"C'mere." Jack said, lifting the blanket he had, and his son scooted in, snuggling against his chest, all elbow and knees. But he was warm and real and right now his son needed him. Jack wrapped an arm round him and settled the blanket over them.

"You have a bad dream, Charlie?" he asked warily. He'd had that big final, very public, argument with Frank yesterday and he knew all about bad dreams. Charlie shook his head.

"What then?"

Charlie shrugged. "Why are you out here?"

"I couldn't sleep either and came out to look at the stars. It's a beautiful night."

Charlie peered at them too. "Could you see them over there? Where you were?"

"Sometimes."

"Oh."

"I was in a different country not another planet; I just saw a slightly different part of the night sky."

"What about unca Frank, could he see your stars?"

"I guess so."

"Oh."

"Would it make you feel better that he could?" He felt Charlie nodding against his chest. "Then I'm sure he did."

"Did you see people hurting each other? Andy at school says there was a big battle and lots of people got killed. But I told him you were a pilot."

"That's right, I am a pilot, but sometimes I jump out of the plane and work on the ground. You remember I told you about the parachutes? I saw some fighting."

"Was Unca Frank where you were fighting?"

"Yes and three others."

"I know Unca Frank came home. What about the others, daddy? Were they with you?"

"No Charlie."

"Oh."

"It's okay."

"Where were they? Where did they go?"

"We almost lost one in the fight, but they made it back to the helicopter with Frank."

"What about you, daddy?"

"Got into a fight, got hurt."

"Like when I felled off my bike an scraped my whole arm, daddy?"

"Kind of, but a lot, lot worse. Frank thought I was dead and there were more enemy soldiers on the way. He had to bug out."

"But you weren't dead, daddy, just hurt."

"I know, kiddo, but he thought I was."

"But he told us you were coming home." Charlie was confused.

"Yes. He knows I'm okay now- he didn't then. He thought he did the right thing."

"Is that why you shouted at him yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"It wasn't anything you did or said. It's just something between Uncle Frank and me. I was surprised to see him and I got mad. You and your mom just happened to be there."

"So when can he come back to see us?"

"I really don't know."

"Oh." There was a pause. "So you got captured by the nemeny soldiers?"

"I did."

"Did you escape?"

"I tried, but they made it very hard to get away. That's why I was away so long." Jack was trying valiantly to reconcile his own version of events with his small son's vision of being captured by pirates or smugglers on a deserted island. It was the only was he could understand the idea of capture and being held prisoner.

"Were you the only one there?"

"No, there were lots of others Why?"

"I didn't want you to be on your own."

Jack couldn't explain to his small son that he had been alone for most of the time; he was surrounded by others in the same situation. All trying to stay alive, all trying to get out one way or another.

"I thought about you every day." Jack murmured as he kissed Charlie's forehead.

"So did me and mommy."

Jack had forgotten the inquisitive mind of small children, leaping from one idea to another.

"I told my friend Andy you were a hero like Superman, and that's why you couldn't write or phone us while you were over there."

"Charlie you know I'm not Superman!"

"Why not? Mommy said you went there to help people."

"Your mom's right. But I'd never wear the cape and tights."

"Well I don't care, you're still mine" said Charlie sleepily.

"Thanks buddy. And you're mine and your mom's always. That's why I came back."

"Did the stars help you find your way home?"

"In a way."

"Tell me. What's that one, daddy…?"

"The one that looks like a funny dog or the triangle one…."

"Don't be silly, daddy!"

Inside the house Sara sat at the bottom of the stairs and wiped her eyes before silently padding out to peer round the patio door at the sight of her husband and son wrapped together on the sun lounger pointing at the stars.


	4. Chapter 4

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**MIA**

It was the first time the driver hadn't picked him up; he was allowed to drive his own vehicle at last. Jack drove off, although he did sit for a long time at the junction at the bottom of the road, Sara noticed. As if deciding which way to go…Sara shut the door and got her purse before meeting some friends. She didn't need to be at home. Jack returned soon after she got back. He seemed fine so she didn't think anything of it. The phone rang, it was for Jack.

"No sir. I'm sorry I didn't phone in…yes I realise now I should have done that. It won't happen again." Squawking came from the phone; Jack's hand tightened "I give you my word sir." Jack listened. "You were worried, that's nice. I was fine." He let out a pent up breath "Yes sir, I will come in tomorrow." pause. "No, you don't need to send the driver! Hello? Hello! Shit!" he banged the phone down and turned around startled to see Sara there.

"Jack, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Don't play games Jack…"

"Alright. I didn't turn up for my appointments today. They're a little steamed about it. I'll just go tomorrow instead. It'll be fine."

"Where were you?"

Jack squirmed at the tone and the question.

"Just out. It's no big deal." he said dismissivly.

"It is. You weren't at the hospital where you were supposed to be! Did you think they'd not notice? Jesus Jack, they could have had the MP's out looking for you!"

"Oh come on."

"Going AWOL isn't funny!"

"Am I laughing? No."

Charlie came back from school then and the conversation ended.

Later in bed Sara thought about why she hadn't pushed him further. She realised it was one of the few opportunities he'd had for getting out of the house under his own steam apart from walking. And he'd been too unfit and then depressed, reclusive - stuck in the house for ages until now. They'd changed some of his meds and the car restriction was lifted. He came back, that was good wasn't it? Should she worry over where or what he'd been doing? Yes and no. He needed his freedom and space and lots of time. As usual Jack's back was to her. He wasn't asleep, she could tell. But she was tired and quickly fell deeply asleep. Sara didn't know that in the deep of night when she turned over and instinctively curled towards his body heat that he moved away.

Jack lay thinking about how he'd set off in the car, practically paralysed by indecision at the end of the road. Which way? Which way? His mind had gone utterly blank. Where was he going? A car tooted its horn behind him and he went straight over the junction instead and got stuck in a traffic jam and then a detour through a newly developed part of town. He was lost until he spotted the park. He was late anyway and then he dismissed the PT and the psych docs from his mind.

Green grass and open air…he headed for the trees. He parked and walked, automatically bringing his bottle of water with him. There was an apple in his pocket too. Just in case…

Sitting under a tree he watched people walking their dogs, reading books, kids playing. Normal things. He dozed off for a while. He returned to the car and from this side of town he traced the route to the hospital, figured out where he went wrong and drove home. The docs would have had other patients after him. It would sort itself out. He drove home. No big deal. Really it wasn't. _I can give you everything that you want apart from what you want…._


	5. Chapter 5

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**Horse with no name- (America)**

Next door's cat came in and started sniffing at the pork joint Sara had left out on the counter top whilst she was hanging up the washing. Jack came into the kitchen as Charlie tried to climb up and remove the cat. The combined efforts of Jack grabbing Charlie and the cat leaping out of the way, made the tin with the uncooked pork and blood juices fall to the floor with a loud metallic clang. The small pan of cranberry sauce got knocked off too. The pork joint skidded across the floor and the cranberry sauce slowly crept towards it. Jack was splattered with the meat juices and some of the sauce before it landed on the floor. Charlie made to go pick the meat up.

"NO!" shouted Jack and grabbed him to him. "Don't touch it!"

Sara came in hearing the noise to be greeted by a tearful Charlie crushed to Jack's arms and Jack staring at the mess on the floor.

"Mommy?"

"What happened?"

"I tried to stop 'pencer from getting dinner but it got knocked on the floor and now daddy won't let me go…." gabbled Charlie

That's when she realised Jack was mute.

"What's wrong with daddy?"

"Nothing."

"But..."

"Shh Charlie. Come here. I need to talk to dad alone. Let's see if Joanne over the road is in. You like her don't you?"

"Yes but…. daddy."

"Jack? I'll be a minute, I'm coming back. Jack?"

Jack hadn't moved an inch but the cranberry tide had reached his sneakers.

Sara rushed Charlie across the road to her neighbour Joanne.

"I need a really big favour, could you keep an eye on Charlie for a while. I'll be back later"

"Sure hon, everything okay? Do you need me to call anyone?"

"No! No, we'll work it out."

She swore later that she had only been gone a few minutes at most reassuring Charlie and coming right back. Jack was still in the kitchen, but he was curled up on the floor, the pot roast had gone and he had sauce and dark stuff – dirt? On his pants and hands and smudges on his face. Why had he taken his socks and sneakers off?

"Jack?"

He ignored her. What had he done with the pork joint? And why? She looked in the kitchen trash bin. Nope. Dirt…Panicked she went into the garden. There in the middle of the border was a disturbed patch. Knowing and yet not believing it she walked woodenly to the spot. There was no tool nearby…he'd used his hands? She swallowed and fetched a trowel. There it was. Dear God, why had he done this? She shook… piecing two and two together and came up with an unholy number. She dug it up again and put in the bigger trash can in the garage. She actually thought about whether she should leave it where it was in case…in case what, Sara? He wants to dig it up or rebury it someplace else? If she left it, it would rot and smell and she did not want to think how that might affect Jack.

It was some time before she managed to coax Jack off the floor and upstairs and into bed. He refused to wash. He refused to speak. She'd just have to figure it out later. Sara sat in the bathroom and cried hard and silently into a bath towel. She pulled herself together and collected Charlie.

Jack woke up suddenly. He lay still waiting and listening. Muted voices from downstairs confirmed Sara and Charlie were there. Why was he in bed? Had he overslept? No, he remembered it had been mid morning; he squinted at the bedside clock. 2.40pm -What the hell? If he'd gone to bed because of a headache it hadn't worked at all. His head was pounding and his back ached liked he'd been gardening or lying on it wrong. Well no wonder, as he realised he was all curled up under the sheet.

Water, he needed a drink of water. Now. Flinging the sheet back he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Head hurt. He looked at his hands and feet distractedly. What was on them and on his clothes? He sniffed a hand. A sweet smell, earth? And….blood ? His stomach lurched and he rushed to the bathroom to be violently ill. He turned the light on so he could clean up. He washed his hands watching the dirt swirl down the plughole. Had he imagined it? There were no MP cars outside, Sara and Charlie seemed to be okay, so what had he done? He tried to think and came up with nothing. He looked at himself again, still clothed, bare feet with dirt on them and..? His shirt cuff had a red stain on them. He looked in the mirror and saw red on his face. He pressed a hand to his head as he 'heard' shouting and 'saw' red blood exploding everywhere. He clutched desperately at the toilet bowl as his stomach turned inside out again. Shaking, he washed at the sink and then slumped to the floor. Oh, God he was dying. He sat trying to summon the strength to get up and shower. Tears of pain leaked from his eyes. How much longer was this going to happen to him?

There was a swirl of air and someone reached for him. "Don't touch me!" he gasped roughly, snapping his eyes open and seeing the hurt look in his wife's face.

"Jack?" she asked.

"Not feeling so good. Going to have a shower and clean up."

"You got one of those headaches?"

"Oh yeah." He heard her opening the cabinet and she placed the bottle in his hands. Startled at the contact he jerked and the bottle dropped onto his lap.

"Did I do too much gardening?" he asked warily. There was a pause before Sara replied "Yeah, you did, Jack. Way too much," then she left.

Jack realised that cracks were appearing around the construct he'd created. He had no control over the flashbacks or nightmares. Thankfully he came to realise Sara couldn't understand what he said when it happened. It was just that he scared her by shouting at her. Sometimes he came to himself and saw the confused and scared look on his little boy's face too, and that really got to him.

**Military hospital**

"Are you sure that's what happened?"

"Yes, the dinner got knocked off the counter in the confusion with the cat and my kid trying to climb up the furniture. I put it in the trash. Nothing else happened doc."

"So, why would your wife be so upset with you?"

"I don't know. Maybe 'cause I had a bad headache and crashed out for the rest of the day?"

"Why did you have to put it in the trash? You could have washed it, not like it was cooked or anything…"

"No, he… it was dead...I mean ruined, a mess on the floor. I cleaned it up. I don't get the problem here."

"Uh- huh, I see. So I don't need to be worried about lost time or flashbacks?"

"Absolutely not. What are you writing doc?"

"Just some notes. Did you know that you just referred to the dinner and I quote "he…it was dead, a mess on the floor"?"

"No."

"You did."

"Did not."

"Do you know why you did that?"

"You're twisting my words. I'm not lying!"

"Okay, not lying- avoiding or hiding perhaps."

"We're having a conversation, what more do you want?"

"It's progress from when we first met, yes. But there's a long way to go."

"Are we done here? I have to be someplace."

The doctor noted Major O'Neill's hand rubbing at his forehead and he looked slightly panicked.

"Are you alright, Major? Why do you have to go?"

"I'm fine. A headache. You're not getting anything else today." Interesting choice of words thought the doctor.

"There's still time left on the clock. Stay a few more minutes," coaxed the doctor.

"No! You can't make me!"

"Calm down. I'm not forcing you to do or say anything you don't want to. See the door is not locked and the window is open." The doctor would know there was something wrong if the Major responded to the tone and trigger words. "It's just you and me talking. No one else need to know what you tell me."

"Bastard!" Bingo, thought the doctor.

"Major O'Neill, I thought we were well past all that."

"What?"

"You lost time didn't you?"

"And how would I know if I can't remember it!"

"There are some other methods we could try. Hypnotherapy for instance."

"Doc, you can make me cluck like a chicken and bark like a dog for all I care. But it's not going to work worth a damn I assure you."

"I am fluent in many languages as you well know, including chicken and dog."

"Sorry about swearing at you in Russian doc."

"Well you weren't quite yourself at the time. I forgive you the German, French and Spanish too."

"Pretty sure I said a whole bunch of things I didn't mean…"

"No I'm quite sure you did mean them but not to me. That's why I didn't reply to you in Arabic either. We only speak English here. It levels the playing field" The doctor decided to leave it there for today. Maybe they could come back to this another time and dig a little deeper. He knew there were other blockages in O'Neill's damaged psyche- he had read his medical file in great detail. He only hoped that they could relieve the pressure before it was too late.


	6. Chapter 6

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**Tragedy- when the feeling's gone and you can't go on, there's no one beside you, you're going nowhere….(Bee Gees)**

The cumulative effects of the non swimming shouting match; the 'pot roast incident', the debacle with Frank and now last night's board game fiasco came to a head for Sara. All in all it had been a really crappy six weeks, coming after his slow recovery from the bad cold/bronchitis. So much for coming home from the war…She was coping wasn't she? Well she thought she was. Charlie was at school and Jack was at the hospital for another round of physio and psych evaluations. Suddenly it was just her and the house and the battle that life had become. But her parents hadn't raised a weak daughter, she was made of strong stuff and she refused to be beaten. Jack was back but it still wasn't a home, a family. The house felt big and empty.

Slowly Sara registered frantic tapping on the patio doors. It was Joanne with a plate of cookies. As soon as Sara noticed her, her friend slid the door open. Sara was horrified to realise she'd been sitting there for half an hour staring into space…

"Sara, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Nuts. You were sitting there staring at nothing. You didn't see or hear me for ages."

"I'm fine…"

"If you say 'I'm fine' one more time, I'm gonna say liar, liar pants on fire!" Sara blinked. "Don't do what that gorgeous husband of yours does!"

Sara's game smile slipped and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

"It's stupid…" she began.

"Tell me and I'll decide if it's stupid or not," said Joanne firmly, passing her a tissue from a box on the coffee table, and sitting down next to her on the couch.

"It's so hard trying to work out what might trigger something. Normal things don't mean normal things any more. I know they told me to expect things. And I know it was my own fault once or twice. I forgot and..."

"Slow down." But Sara was off again

"If he finds out I said anything to you…"

"Then don't tell him. I certainly won't, not unless I think he's going to hurt you or Charlie. If you must -tell him much later when he can take it. Even if it's a year from now. Talk to me, talk to the base docs. They might need to know some of this."

"He wouldn't hurt us, I know it!" Joanne just looked at her. "Okay but he was having a nightmare …"

"Yeah and it's scary as hell. You need to say something…"

"But I feel like I'm telling tales. It's our business not theirs!"

"Honey who pays the bills? Who gave you the house, the school where Charlie goes? The Air Force. They own him and they own you too. They've invested thousands of dollars in training that husband of yours. They aren't going to give up on him for quite a while. He's too good to let go. Not unless they thought they couldn't fix him or he can't fix himself.

"They weren't here when the pot roast and sauce got knocked to the floor. Jack weirded out! I brought Charlie to you. I came back and he'd buried the godddamed thing in the garden with his bare hands! You want to know what the scary thing is?"

"No, but you're going to tell me anyway.

"He doesn't know he did it!" Sara was yelling now.

"Jeez. Hey calm down a minute.

"I can't! They don't live here for crying out loud. They aren't here when he throws his kid's board game into the trash for some unknown reason!"

"I'm sorry to hear that. When was this? Was Charlie okay?"

"Last night. Charlie was a little upset. It turned out it was just the one game Jack didn't like. He was happy to play checkers with Charlie. I rescued the game and hid it in the loft along with that dictionary-phrase book. I tried to get him to take Charlie swimming ages ago; I know I got that one wrong. He flat out refused."

"He doesn't like water anymore?"

"He does water therapy at the hospital! He talks at the hospital. But he won't talk to me. And guess what, he still dresses and undresses in the bathroom, Joanne! How could I be so stupid?"

"Stop that! You're entitled to forget. You're human like Jack. It's just going to take a lot of time. You weren't a POW over there, don't give yourself a sentence too! Carrying on family life over here as normal is a big strain. Not knowing if your man is coming back or not"

"I knew he wasn't dead."

"I know. Look Fred told me it's like a game of chutes and ladders. Some days no problem you're going up that ladder and you feel great. Other days you slide all the way down that chute to the bottom. But eventually there are bigger ladders and smaller chutes until you reach square 100."

"Oh my God!"

"What?"

"Is that what the doctors tell all the returning POW's?"

"Don't know, maybe. It's what Fred told me his pet shrink said. Made sense."

"That was the board game Jack refused to play with Charlie last night!"

"Wow. Turned out to be a bit too literal for him didn't it!"

"He hides things so well. He knows, deep down I know it. He just doesn't want to see it yet" said Sara sadly. "What if he can't get back in? If they give him a desk job he might just as well be dead."

"Sara O'Neill! Why are you giving up now?"

"Uh..."

"You're the one who said he wasn't dead. You kept everything going. Charlie is great. You're entitled to a bad day."

"Am I?"

"Yes, I think you are."

"Well I don't!"

"What phrase book were you talking about, Sara?"

"Huh?"

"You put it in the loft with the shutes and ladders board?"

"Oh that," Sara looked uncomfortable. "When he first came home and sometimes even now, though he's much better now, I mean he hardly ever…."

"Sara."

"Okay, he'd say things in his sleep- when he slept that was. Partly he still hurt a lot from what they'd done to him. But mainly I think he wouldn't sleep. It was too light, it was too dark, too quiet and yet if I had the radio on, he turned it off. I couldn't even walk past him and ruffle his hair, or touch him on the arm without him leaping a mile. I hugged him from behind once and he just froze. Normal harmless …stuff. You could say he was a bit oversensitive in some ways and dead in others. The things he said in that foreign language- I was trying to help him. He was angry and hurt, understanding what he said seemed to make sense at the time. But I felt like I was betraying him. I knew he'd never tell me exactly what happened over there and I was right. I felt bad sneaking around with a dictionary-phrase book trying to work out what he said in his nightmares! Tell me is that normal? And then I had to hide the book too because if he ever finds it that's it. Game over. He'll leave and it'll have been all my fault! I'd listen if only he'd share some of this with me. Am I that bad?"

Joanne could see that Sara had worked herself into a state. Joanne pulled her friend into her arms and let her cry herself out. Gradually the storm passed.

"I'm sorry." Sara mumbled grabbing more tissues to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. "I must look a sight."

"You look exactly like some one who's in the middle of a crisis. But I've seen you O'Neills down before. Shit happens. You know that, I know that. And you know what that crappy manure is good for? Roses."

Sara gave a choked laugh; trust Joanne not to gild the lily. Someone else would have gushed that she looked fine.

"And you're in no way a bad person, wife, whatever. He wouldn't leave you and Charlie, you're everything to him- any fool can see that."

"Then why can't he talk to me?"

"Have you thought that maybe he's trying to protect you and Charlie from the horror of it? Maybe it's a guy thing and he feels more comfortable talking to people who've been through similar experiences. You know- where there's a shorthand dialogue going on where they know what he means. Perhaps he wants to keep some of it away from home."

"But he is home a lot of the time so I don't see that it helps."

"That's the kicker."

**Military hospital**

"Hey, butt out- you have no idea what it was like over there...!" yelled Jack.

"That's why we're here now- to try and help you deal with what happened to you."

"It happened. I'm here now. It's over."

"No it isn't. Don't you want to go back to work, Major?"

"You have no idea how much."

"Then co-operate a little here. We still need any information you can give us on where you were, what you saw, and the other soldiers' or civilians' names you remember."

"We've been through this a dozen times."

"And we'll keep on going until everybody's happy and you can go back to duty."

"As long as it takes huh?" Jack cleared his throat. '_I can give you everything you want apart from what you want…_' he thought to himself.

"Would you like some water? There's plenty." The doctor noted the internal debate his patient had to take or not take the water. Jack got up and took a bottle of water from the small fridge in the corner of the room. He was pleased to see that he didn't drink it all at once or drink several bottles one after the other.

At the end of the session Jack still had the half full bottle of water.

"You want to finish that now, and it can go in the recycle bin?"

"No, I'm okay, saving it for later."

The doctor made another note in his file.


	7. Chapter 7

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**Love changes everything, love makes you fly, spread your wings…. (Climie Fisher)**

Jack woke up alone in the bed. He wasn't surprised- he'd had an interesting day yesterday. Coming home and walking in on the CNN Iraq TV report spooked him badly. Then he'd scared Sara by his reaction, stomping off into the garden. He topped off the night by smashing the mirror doors on the bathroom cabinet. So angry at himself. But instead of ruining everything it had finally brought them together.

Things weren't perfect by any stretch of imagination but they would get there in time. He wanted life to be normal, like they were before…He wanted Sara back more than anything and didn't want to go too fast in case something ….went wrong…didn't work…if he loused things up. He remembered the tears they'd both shed last night or early this morning and didn't regret them. He focussed on last night's memory of the snug fit of her body against his as he got dressed. It was wonderful and scary. He liked the idea of someone being there to hold his shattered self together.

He was hungry- he'd given up on dinner last night he remembered. So he looked for something to snack on. Nothing in the fridge he fancied so he went to the larger chest freezer in the garage and rummaged. And came up surprised and confused by what he found. 'Why is it all out of date?' he wondered. He poked further and uncovered many tubs of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, 'Phish food' his favourite flavour….

He retraced his steps to the house and found Sara in the lounge at the bureau, sorting bills.

"Sara, what's this out of date stuff doing in the freezer?" he asked.

"It's your favourite food. I made it or bought it for you. I went shopping as normal. I put stuff in the basket, realised it was stuff only you like and went to put it back. And then I thought maybe if I did that, you wouldn't… it was silly really. I had to carry on as normal, Jack. Making dinner, doing the washing, taking Charlie to school. I saved the food. Sure I can't be the only military wife that's done that when their husband gets deployed to a hot zone…"

"You thought that I wouldn't come back if you put the supermarket's ice cream back?" he asked slowly.

She nodded, upset. "Told you it was stupid!"

Jack was at a loss to grasp what she'd gone through without him. It was the little things in life, which meant the most… It was too much. He was selfish. "I didn't know, okay. I didn't think you would…it never occurred to me…" he said helplessly.

"What? Care you were gone, Jack?! We missed you every minute of every day. Yeah I know it was dumb not to put that food back for some other wife whose husband was coming home to dinner but I just couldn't do it. Not to me or Charlie or to you. It was crazy but it worked. Okay?"

"Okay." He agreed after all he was the crazy one wasn't he?

"Charlie made me save it too…"

Jack didn't know what to say round the lump in his throat. He was one lucky flyboy.

"Hey, c'm here," he said holding out a hand, last nights bandages on his knuckles swapped for Band Aids. "I didn't mean to get you all angry and defensive on me, it was just unexpected that's all." Sara came over to him and walked into his arms. He tensed slightly at first and then relaxed. She sighed. "It's okay, crazy works for me too." he murmured his chin resting on her head.

Sara was tired; she'd watched him sleep for a change. He was fast asleep when she woke up and she decided to leave him to it. It was Saturday, Charlie was away. It didn't matter if he slept the whole day out. And then he suddenly popped up asking her about frozen food…

As she hugged him back she noticed he was wearing a short sleeved shirt. A step away from the long sleeved shirts he'd worn ever since coming home all those months ago.

"Hey," he said "You didn't wake me!" but he was smiling.

"You were fast asleep. I couldn't bear to wake you." She looked up at him, unsure of his mood.

"What were you doing?"

"Paying bills, paperwork stuff."

"Leave it. Let's do something you wanna do." he suggested

"Well it's a nice day, let's go to the park and maybe get a boat ride…remember?"

"Yeah I do."

"No, that was my line…"

In the rowing boat, apple juice ran down Sara's chin. Jack leant forward and wiped it way with a thumb, his hand cupping her face. He leant in to kiss her gently.

"Jack, we're in the middle of the boating lake!"

"Let 'em look I don't care."

He looked at her intently with the promise of things to come.

"Do I pass?" she asked.

"You never failed."

**Military hospital**

The following Monday morning Doctor Maywood waited for his next patient, Major O'Neill. Like so many of the officers and serviceman he'd dealt with over the years- they all challenged him. They queried his expertise, his authority and his 'right' to tell them that they were ill. It was his job to reassure them that they would recover and go back to their duties. Whole men again. But how they railed against it. Fought hard. Just as they had done as prisoners.

O'Neill with his dark eyes blazing defiantly back at him from day one, challenging him, testing him -even as he sat there frail, hollow and in pain from his injuries. Sarcasm and flippant remarks used as a cover for the deep hurts done to him. The doctor could see though that this was just a defence mechanism, that there was much more to this officer than at first glance.

Early sessions when the officer seemed bored not blinking, just sitting there, when he was struggling to pay attention to what the doctor was telling him. That he was seeing other images and overwhelmed by it all. But he said nothing about how he felt, just relayed the facts- the minimum to get through the sessions. But that gradually changed.

Glancing again through the officer's jacket on his desk, he turned a page. He'd certainly been through a lot. At least he had a stable home life and that helped a great deal. He only hoped they were all strong enough for the last big hurdle in O'Neill's recovery. This would make or break them, he reasoned. The problem was trying to get the Major to even acknowledge the event.

He remembered the day O'Neill hadn't turned up for either his PT session or appointment with himself. When he did speak to O'Neill on the phone later that day he persuaded him to come in. It was a while before his patient admitted that he'd got lost and ended up at the park for a few hours.

Then there were the weeks he missed through ill health. Whilst he admired the following of orders he didn't expect patients who didn't want to come in to arrive ill and practically collapse in his office…on second thought he'd seen all sorts of things in his time. He'd called the medical doctors in to his office and they'd examined O'Neill and reluctantly sent him home with antibiotics. He refused to be admitted to the base hospital where they could hook him up to the good stuff. O'Neill had roused himself enough to get back in the provided car to go home again. The doctor had seen the look of despair cross his patient's face that he was ill again and resignation that maybe he deserved it and should get used to it.

A reduced immune system could not win against a cold and getting soaked in a thunderstorm definitely hadn't been a good idea. But by then the doc understood about the heat, the 'black box' and the water situation and O'Neill's reason for standing in the rain. Even if O'Neill himself hadn't consciously thought about it he just reacted. Needless to say he hadn't mentioned to his wife that he felt unwell .It was a familiar pattern.

The doctor closed the file at the sharp rap on his door that signalled O'Neill's entry. Still lean but with a more respectable weight on him, O'Neill sat down. He seemed wary but…brighter. Something had happened. Something good, by the look of it.

"Sorry I'm late -overslept." O'Neill admitted with a small smile.

"What happened?" he asked, pointing at the Band Aids on the Major's knuckles.

"Turns out I need new mirror doors on the bathroom cabinet." replied Jack dryly.

"I see."

"I'm okay."

"Were you alone?"

"No, Sara was asleep in the bedroom. She's okay, we're both fine."

"You got angry over something?"

"You could say that."

"I just did."

There was a pause while O'Neill gathered his thoughts.

"I came home on Friday and walked in on a report on the TV from Iraq. I…it….brought back some things…."

"What did you do?"

"Argued with my wife, got angry. She thought I was going to break the glass in the patio door..."

"Self harming won't help anybody."

"You rather I hit her instead, doc? I couldn't do that!"

"We've discussed this before about bottling up emotions and reactions. It isn't healthy in the long run."

"I… might have….panicked…a bit."

"Might have? You mean you had a panic attack?"

"Yes, but she…I …got through it. It wasn't as bad as some I've had…"

"Then what?" prodded the doctor.

"What do you think? I stayed in a bad mood all evening. Sat outside thinking bad thoughts," He said flippantly.

"So…you were planning something?"

"No, doc, I wasn't trying to kill myself!"

"But you have thought about it?"

"Where is this coming from?"

"Answer the question."

"Jeez doc, I was feeling alright until I came in here!"

Despite himself the doctor laughed. It was good to see some humour return.

O'Neill scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"Of course I thought about dying, hard not to with a gun to your head!"

"But on some occasions it was you holding the gun to your head, Major," the doctor softly reminded him.

"We've been through that again and again. I was forced to play Russian roulette. Yes, I'm glad the other guy died not me. I was happy to be alive at that moment. Sure. But there was no way to control what they did to us apart from not answering their questions and staying alive just to piss them off. Because they tried very hard to kill us all."

"Thank you. I wanted to hear you say it one more time."

"Happy now, doc?"

"Ecstatic, Major. So what happened between you hitting the patio glass and needing new mirror doors in the bathroom?"

"She pushed and I shoved back."

"You mean..?"

"No! No, not that! I didn't touch... hurt her! I keep telling you!"

"Okay, then explain it to me."

"She realised I knew another soldier who was killed in that place. It was on the TV. The family wanted information the British Army won't give them and she thought I could tell them."

"But?"

"But I can't tell them what really happened to him. They don't need to know that. Isn't it enough that they killed him?"

"What did your wife say to that?"

"She said if it was her, she'd want to know what happened to me, no matter what."

"What do you think?"

There was a long pause and the doctor wondered if O'Neill was going to reply at all.

"What I think is… that I made a promise to a dead man and I can't keep it yet…"

"Is that what had you tied up in knots all night?"

"That and other stuff."

"So... the bathroom mirror?"

"Got the brunt of my anger and frustration, yeah."

"You didn't like what you saw in the mirror did you Jack?"

"Guess not."

"I'm going to ask you again if you intended to harm yourself."

"No! I didn't. I just got a little mad. If I wanted to be dead, we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation doc, nobody would know. I'd be a sand pile in the desert, I wouldn't have waited 'til I got home!"

"Your wife's been solidly with you throughout the whole of this. Do you not think that maybe this was a cry for help? For her to rescue you? You told me how hard it was to adjust to being home with your family, to be close to them. But you can't live without them either. She's been waiting for you to tell her things she needs to know. How you feel, what happened to you, what you want from her…"

"I didn't want pity."

"But she didn't, did she, Jack?"

"No."

"She gave you love instead."

"Yes...she did. How did you know?"

"It's written on your face, and you wouldn't be here now if she hadn't. If she didn't love you enough she'd be gone and you'd be dead. I can't put it any plainer than that."

"Jesus, doc."

"Tell me if I'm right or wrong, Major"

"You're right. Godammit but you are."

"So are you trying to get closer, working some things out?"

"Yeah, she's being very understanding. I…ah…had to explain a few things, you know? We can be together, but not exactly together. She's being patient. But I think it's going to be okay."

"Excellent."

"So what now?"

"I think we can scale down our appointments again to every two weeks unless you feel the need to see me earlier. In which case pick up the phone. My door, as you know, is always open."

"I'll be okay."

"Yes you will be."

"Wasn't just you. I couldn't have done it without Sara."


	8. Chapter 8

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**Holding out for a hero- Bonnie Tyler.**

Jack managed the welcome back hug for Sara and to pick up Charlie briefly, the day he finally came home to his family- because he needed to feel that they were real, and he was overwhelmed by the moment, but that was it. He couldn't stand people touching him, slapping his back or whatever. The sickening touches in the prison had been unbearable. The pretend niceness followed by brutality. The necessary prodding and probing at the hospitals, whilst caring and sympathetic, was also too much. People staring at him, pitying, horrified. They pretended they didn't but he felt the itch on his shoulder blades and caught them when he turned round. Just leave me alone, dammit.

But Jack had always been a touchy feely kind of a guy around Sara and Charlie, and he couldn't do it any more. They didn't get it at first when he jerked away or froze or raised his hands to ward them off. They learnt not to. He knew it hurt Sara, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

No matter how many times he scrubbed in the shower or soaked in the tub, he still felt dirty. No matter how many times they told him it was alright, it wasn't.

The doc was trying to help but he couldn't get the words and images and sensory memories out of his mind, so he couldn't reach out to Sara. He couldn't begin to start getting used to her touching or holding him, like he was supposed to. He couldn't let it go. She was clean and soft and smelled so good and he dared not touch her for fear of soiling her wholesomeness. And Charlie, dear God, Charlie was an innocent. And he was after all an expert in evasion….But he and Sara were trying and he thought it wouldn't affect him, but it did. How could it not?

Loss of control was not an option he cared to contemplate with Sara. He'd scared her enough as it was with the yelling and nightmares, pushing her literally out of bed. One time he woke curled up in the corner of the clothes closet, not knowing how he came to be there, but it felt safe. Confined in the dark, and alone he stayed there as long as he could.

It had been kept as the ultimate threat, since the playing with one bullet in the gun episode hadn't worked. The black box in the sun had its moments too. The beatings were a part of life, hands, sticks didn't matter. Electric shocks and cigarettes burns were nasty but you recovered in time. Base threats to what made a man, a man, were all that were left to kill off the spirit, unless illness and infection got you first. And he'd made it through all that and more. Mind games, the head honcho liked those a lot. Leave it until the body was weakened from illness and injury and then weaken his mind as well…

Whispered words in his ear, caressing touches. Insinuations about his wife or girlfriend back home. Insinuations about when Chris- the British guy- had been put into his cell, when he was so ill that time. It was all geared to wear down a soldier's belief in himself as a man. Reduce him to nothing and he'd have no self worth left, so telling them what they wanted to know would be an easy step. Or so they thought. They threatened, tormented and humiliated proud men. And came close to doing what they promised, laughing all the while as he hung with his arms above him, naked and beaten and exposed. He knew what they were doing. His own unit had practised such events during training. Anything to get the information.

He felt ashamed but the doctor kept saying that_he_ hadn't responded, only his body had because that's the way men were wired. But he couldn't get past it. Unclean, groped and caressed, hot breath, heavy body, his body finding release despite where he was and who he was with- he had blanked his mind. Head honcho guy had been pleased with the results and next time threatened to let Warid have him for himself. All he had to do was walk out of the room and leave them alone. Jack could tell them what they wanted to know now, or….he would ask again later, when Warid was done. And if he could do it once, he could do it again. Why was he so special that he should be left alone? To not endure what the others had?

He was left in his cell to think about it. It wasn't something he could ask Chris, since he was dead now. But if he'd still been alive would he have said? Would any of them? They all heard the thuds and the shouts and the screams and the deafening silences. And they could all imagine and they all thought thank god it's not me.

Slowly the doc drew the stories out of Jack, needing to know why he did what he did or said something or reacted in a certain way. And Jack knew these were old, old tales that men of war had let loose to run shrieking and sobbing in a safe room to someone who did not condemn them. And he knew that as long as man went to war with one another, the stories would always be told, no matter whose side you were on.

How far would he go in order to protect his country, his unit wherever they were and himself? The longer he was there of course, the more out of date any Intel he had, must be. They knew that and wanted everything he had anyway and they were prepared to get it by any means necessary. The fact that he'd lasted so long made it all the more of a challenge for them. Another game for the head Honcho guy. Bastard.

**Military hospital**

"How's things at home with Sara?"

"Slow. But okay."

"Only okay?"

"She's great. It's me. Sometimes I just can't feel good enough about myself to get close to her."

"Ah."

"That's a big help, doc."

"Maybe there's more to the physical injuries you sustained. I re-read your medical notes. Is there anything you like to tell me?"

"Nothing else happened."

"I beg to differ. The notes don't lie; you're lying to yourself and to me."

"Nothing happened, doc. I swear!"

"I think you're protesting too much. I know something else did and this is blocking any progress you should be making back home with Sara."

"I already told you they beat me up, and other stuff. And a couple of times… this guard, arid, touched me…made me…get off. There were others there in the room, it was humiliating. That's all."

"Don't you think that's quite enough for any man in that situation?"

"I guess. We were trained to expect a lot of what happened to us."

"I'm not interested in generalities, Major, I'm interested in what happened to you and how you are coping with it."

There was a long gap before Jack continued in a monotone…

"Training is good, it was good…but it wasn't real enough, although we tried to make it real at the time…I'd been there for, like, forever. Weeks, months and it wasn't getting any better. Some days were worse than others. There are some days, maybe even a week, I don't remember near the end…

I liked it in the cell because it was mine, I wasn't bothered by anyone else. I got used to it. The time I was ill, they had more prisoners in and we had to double up for a while. Maybe it was a game for the honcho guy but I'll never know. But I was very ill and someone was there but it was okay. The voice in the dark was different to…to…" Jack suddenly got up and paced around.

"Different to what?"

"I can't…..Geordie- that's what Chris said everybody called him- was good, did what he could- he got more water off a new guard, nursed me, gave me strength to carry on for a bit longer …and then…" Jack broke off and got a bottle of water, drank some and then worried the bottle in his hands.

"What?"

Jack sighed heavily. "He was dead, they…killed him… and I was on my own again."

"And that was okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Until…?"

"I don't...I can't…I'm not sure any more if it was real or if I dreamt it…"

"I think you know Jack. There's more isn't there? You just have to talk to me. Let it out."

"God."- Jack sat on the floor and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as if trying to shut everything out.

"No, I'm just a doctor trying to help you."

"Honcho guy appeared one day and said it was a week since our last 'chat'…..but I never believed him except…"

"Go on."

"He did go away for a few days, but some of the other guys told me that later. At the time…I'd been questioned by him, got stuck in the box overnight, they beat me up badly. Had my head rung good. Little food or water, got a little dehydrated and feverish. Didn't know what I was seeing or hearing."

"See what? What did you hear?"

"I thought there was someone in my cell, heard breathing. But no one answered. Dreamt it I guess. Maybe I was remembering when there were two of us in the cell…."

"Maybe not."

"A day or so later I got questioned again, slapped around a bit as usual-why are you here, where are your units, how many men are you? Only now I think about it, I don't remember head honcho's voice. But he didn't always speak-- he watched from the shadows. There were always a few guards in the room. I was ill and injured… I tried…. I think he tried again- touching me- but I was too hurt to…to respond. Made him mad. I couldn't… get away."

"From who?"

"Any of them, but especially Him. Crawled to the door, slammed into the wall, god it hurt thought I was dying."

"And then what?"

"Black, dark, I'm back in my cell, I wake up and I hear breathing again."

"And does it go away?"

"…..no. but I don't know if I'm dreaming or what. But my feet are shackled and …there's nothing I can do. Maybe I imagined it out of my twisted imagination after all. Doesn't mean he actually did anything….."

"But what if he did?"

"Ahhh, Jeez. But my cell was safe, should have been. All that time. Like it was a rule or something right? They left the light on all the time. Left the radio on full blast. Then sometimes, darkness. But...maybe that breathing and I hurt and there was a heavy weight, pressing… on me and…I wasn't there I blanked it out. One more hurt to add to the others."

"But you aren't blanking it now, are you, and the doors didn't magically open in time and he didn't stop, did he?"

"…no. I don't think so."

"Do you remember what happened next?"

"Maybe, it's the next day and all I know is that I hurt everywhere and not for the first time. Sometime after that honcho comes back and orders the guard to hose me down and we have a 'chat'. But he doesn't get much from me because I don't say anything. The threats and taunts have no effect. He gets mad and stomps off- I go back in my cell. I hear a lot of shouting. Never see Warid again. Don't know if he ordered it or Warid was just doing his own thing. I swear I didn't think anything…it all got jumbled up and lost with all the other bad stuff towards the end. But I know it made me mad, rebellious, not weak like they wanted….."

Jack sat on the floor head, leaning back against the wall, eyes shut, utterly drained.

"How do you feel?"

"Really tired, doc. Sick"

"We've been through a lot this session."

The doctor's phone rang and Jack jerked a little at the sudden noise. Marwood got up and spoke quietly into the phone.

"Didn't realise that's what the time was, doc. I've overrun. I'd better go." And he started to get up off the floor.

"No. we take as much time as we need for this. Sit back down and relax for a spell."

"How can I tell Sara this?"

"She needs to know why you react like you do when you're with her. You love your wife, don't you, Major O'Neill?"

"Yes!"

"Then don't you owe it to the both of you to give her an explanation. That you have some problems because of what happened to you. That you will still need to be tested."

"I know."

"So take it slow and build up to what you feel comfortable with- which is what you've been trying to do. One on one. Once you have another negative test back, you can let nature take its course."

"You make it sound so easy doc. I don't want anyone else to know I was…assaulted. Not my CO, anyone."

Jack sat in the car for a while when he got home, thinking, before going in and taking a long shower.


	9. Chapter 9

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**A little less conversation a little more action baby…(Elvis)**

Jack and Sara were getting there slowly. And not without the odd set back.

"Sara .We need to talk."

"Okay."

"I need to tell you something and I'm scared how you might react. But it's important- for the both of us."

"Now you are worrying me. But go ahead Jack. Say what you've got to say."

"I love you. But, this is going to take time- us- together. You know I said they hurt me pretty badly?"

"You told me the other night about things going into hiding."

"So I did. There's more."

"Oh."

"I know it wasn't my fault, that there wasn't anything I could do but..."

"Jack, what..?"

"Let me finish. I had no control."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"We're trying so hard here…but we can't do anything intimate until I get a second lot of tests back."

"What tests?"

"Negatives ones."

"Neg….."

"Sara. I was assaulted in the prison…"

She took a deep breath but her gaze never wavered and Jack realised there was a chance for them to get through this.

"Second tests….what…what happened to the first ones?"

"They were negative."

"That's good right?"

He nodded at her. And she smiled back.

Slowly over the next few weeks it had been their routine for him to get used to her holding him and touching him and vice versa. Tonight it went further as they played around in bed until she suddenly rolled on top of him and pinned his hands down.

"No!" he shouted trying to buck her off. "Don't!"

She let go quickly.

"It's alright, Jack. It's me Sara. Let it go now. I'm not going to hurt you."

Panting in exertion and the sudden adrenaline rush,he rolled over with his back to her.

"Jack?"

"Sorry, just give me a minute."

"Shh it's okay. Talk to me."

"Everybody wants me to talk," he said tiredly turning over to face her again.

"Not this kind of talk," she waggled her eyebrows at him.

"God, you're a bad influence," he said.

"Na," she replied "I'm good and I'm bad."

"Can't you make up your mind?!"

"I know what I want, but what do you want?"

"I want you so bad it hurts, but I'm scared to let go. I don't want to hurt you."

"It's me Jack. You won't hurt me. Let it go. It's okay now. The docs said it was alright to be together now. You are 100."

His eyes teared up and his face crumpled.

"Shhh, here now," she soothed as she gently enfolded him in her arms holding him tight, kissing him softly. Slowly his arms came round her body too holding her tight.

And she wrapped him with her love and brought him all the way home like she had promised to herself the day he came home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**Smoke on the water (Deep Purple)**

Jack had been methodically repairing Charlie's bike. The struts that held the training wheels had gotten bashed and were out of true, that and the chain had come off as well. He didn't ask how Charlie had done it or how long it had lain unfixed.

Charlie's soft breath opposite him reminded him of his audience of one, sitting cross legged on the garage floor watching intently.

"Is it mended now, daddy?"

"Almost squirt, not long now." he replied as he struggled with the chain.

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"When can I ride my bike?"

"Soon."

"How long is that?"

"Just, hang on Charlie okay."

He looked up as he heard voices. From the relative shade and shelter of the garage with the door open he saw Sara chatting with their neighbour over the road, Joanne. They finished talking and Sara headed back home, Joanne called her back and went into her garage. She emerged with a square box with wires trailing from it and handed it to Sara.

"Is it mended now? Can I ride my bike now daddy?" interrupted Charlie.

"Not yet."

Standing there with an adjustable spanner in one hand and hands slick with bike oil, he didn't register at first what Sara was carrying.

"Hey, you fixed it." she said.

"Almost."

"Here," she said, thrusting the box and wires at him. "This is yours. You know where it goes. Joanne said Fred borrowed it ages ago, forgot it."

He stared at it. A spare battery and jump starters with crocodile clips for jump starting cold engines...but not lately.

"It's heavy Jack, take it- it's yours" she repeated.

Jack dropped the spanner, jerked at the clang it made and backed away until he hit the garage wall.

"N.o" he said

"What?" Sara asked. "What's wrong, Jack?"

"No" Jack repeated. He slid down the wall and sat hunched up arms covering his head. Rocking …lost in memories.

He was in a damp cell, his body slick with water and blood. Battered and bruised -he looked at his hands, blood there too. An electric light shined full on him. A man emerged from the dark background. "This is for you" he said "since you won't answer our questions the other way. It's all your fault. You're making me do this," Metal clips advanced towards him, a box humming in the background. Agony. White agony. Again and again on fleshy tender parts of his body. He didn't know. He wasn't going to tell them anything. Even if he did, (which he did,) he wasn't going to tell. Really he wasn't. Think of something made up, maybe. Would that work or just piss them off more?

He heard voices but ignored them. Frowned after a while. What were a woman and child doing here? Couldn't be real. He carried on ignoring them, panting slightly, his face damp with sudden sweat.

Sara worked out what had just happened. One minute everything was fine, the next Jack was gone. Another flashback. Charlie looked scared. She put the jump leads and spare battery down on the floor, and covered them with an empty cardboard box. Taking Charlie's hand, they went to the kitchen.

"Is daddy ill again?"

"Yes, he'll be alright in a while. Let's leave him for a minute."

"But…he'll be all alone."

Sara knew trying to be nice and going over to him and touching him would not help. He was more likely to lash out or shout at her and she didn't want that again.

"Why don't you go and play in the garden. I'll keep an eye on daddy for you."

"But I want to be with daddy."

"Later Charlie, not now."

"Okay" he said reluctantly

When Jack came to himself a short time later, he saw that the jump leads and battery had gone and that someone had left him a bottle of water. He drank it, annoyed with himself for losing control again. Somehow he'd have to reacclimatise himself to various implements, and re-learn that they had normal functions other than those used so inventively by his captors. Removing inappropriate associations…more homework at the shrink's office. He was learning to cope with smells and sounds too. It was just taking time to rewire the brain's trigger mechanisms. He and the doc probably weren't going to be able to undo everything, as he still hadn't told the good old doc everything. They all accepted that he could still be prone to trigger flashbacks for a long time to come. The intensity and frequency were diminishing though. That had to be good didn't it? It would have to do. He would get better now that he was home and Sara and Charlie were with him. He always did.

He was grateful for Sara's non intervention; it was the right way to go until he could accept some measure of comfort…next time maybe. He still had issues with people touching or grabbing him. He schooled his anger and disappointment in himself. Okay it had happened, get over it. Try not to be so spooked by it next time when he needed to jump start the truck, or help a neighbour out.

He got up off the floor and went back to Charlie's bike, and finished putting the chain on. Job done- he wiped the oil on his hands that had looked like blood off onto a cloth and went into the utility room to wash up. As he was cleaning his hands with the green gunk, Sara came in.

"Okay?" She asked carefully.

"Yeah…thanks." For not crowding me, for the water, for putting up with me, he thought but didn't say out loud.

"That mean the bike's fixed?"

"Yes."

"Great. I'll tell Charlie."

"No, I'd better go."

She nodded.

"He been out there long?" he asked, by way of asking how long he'd been caught in the flashback and finish repairing the bike.

"About twenty minutes."

She watched as he went into the garden and approached Charlie who was lying flat on the grass, head on his hands watching something in the grass. Bugs, worms or ladybirds probably. Jack lay down next to him. Charlie asked him something, Jack nodded and replied. Charlie gave him a one armed hug round his neck. Then he pointed out to his dad what he was watching, explaining and pointing. They lay there until whatever it was flew off, crawled off, got eaten or whatever. At that point Jack tickled Charlie and they rolled around like…well children. Then Jack must have mentioned the bike because Charlie got up and headed for the kitchen door.

"We're going to the park. I'm taking my bike!"

"Okay. Be careful. See you later."

"You want to come with?" Jack asked.

"No you go. I can go to the park any time with him…"

She followed them through the utility room to the garage. Charlie already on the drive way on his beloved bike. Jack was rummaging for something.

"Sara! Have you seen…Oh, got it!" and off he went pulling his bb cap out of a back pocket and putting it on his head, a Frisbee clamped under one arm.


	11. Chapter 11

**Caught in the monkey jar: Blackbeard Interludes**

**Cloudbusting ( Kate Bush)**

A sunny, slightly breezy day in Minnesota and Jack was finally in shorts, t shirt and sandals along with the rest of them. Sara packed a picnic and Charlie's kite and they set off. They let Charlie run back and forth showing them things, and running after butterflies, hoping it would wear him out. And when his shorter legs tired, Jack hoisted him up onto his shoulders. They played with Charlie, until they all grew hungry. After a big lunch, Sara kept an eye on Charlie while Jack dozed off. A gust of wind blew a napkin off the edge of the rug and as Sara crawled around and grabbed for it, she noticed anew the marks on the soles of Jack's bare feet. Another remembrance of what had gone before. They had come such a long way. From now on they could only go forwards. Sara leaned over and kissed him.

"What was that for?" he said, opening one eye.

"Love you."

He smiled "Right back atcha," he said as he pulled her to him.

"Don't start anything we can't finish," she admonished as he nibbled one ear.

"Spoilsport." He sat up reaching for her hand. "Is that a breeze?"

"Uhuh. You know what that means don't you?"

"Oh, Yeah.Charlie, my boy?" Jack called as he slipped his sandals back on.

"What, daddy?"

"Want to fly your kite?"

"Yeah!" he yelled as he ran towards them, finally barrelling into Jack's legs. Sara watched them go off up the incline. At first Charlie had a go on his own, running down again, pulling the kite string behind him. It partially worked, but Charlie soon ran out of steam. He sat and watched Jack jog down the hill and up again, his nimble fingers working the string, making the kite dance.

"Come on, we'd best head back now guys." called Sara after even Jack had sat for a breather.

"Okay, last one kiddo." Jack hoisted his son onto his shoulders and holding the kite string firmly, ran down the hill to Sara and the picnic stuff, with Charlie screaming with glee all the while.

"We're flying daddy!"

**Military hospital two months later**

"I take it things have improved at home, Major."

"Yes. Things are in full working order, doc. Especially after the second results came back. We spent some time up at the family cabin in Minnesota. Fishing, walking, it's quiet up there."

"Sounds like a good plan."

"It was. Helped a lot."

"Good. So, anything you'd like to talk about?"

"Why? Has my superior officer said anything about my performance of duties?"

"No. I understand everything is going well there. You're still a little paranoid, Major…"

"Hey, just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get me!"

"Not very original but I'll let it pass."

"So, is this it? I'm free to go?"

"You were always free to go."

"Nope, I had orders. Besides I knew it was mandatory .And you have to sign me off your books. So are you going to?"

"What, sign you off? Yes I am. You've come a very long way, Major. You are a credit to the service."

"You're making me blush here doc!"

"It's taken you a long time to get to this point. I know it was longer than you wanted, but given the circumstances- it was never going to be done in one or two sessions."

"What are you saying? That I'm not recovered!"

"You're pretty much recovered. There's still some settling down to go. And you know that you will still experience flashbacks for some time yet. But not as often and in time they'll fade. You've learnt some techniques on how to deal with that. But if you run into trouble…"

"Yes, doc I know where you live."

"Perhaps I shouldn't worry so much! Don't forget to take things easy, look after that wife and son of yours and don't forget what I said about life and chutes and ladders!"

"I won't forget. Thanks again doc."

"Did you know it's called "Snakes and Ladders" in England? Rather appropriate considering the behaviour of the enemy you faced out there."

"Slimy, two faced, poisonous…yeah. That works for me. I'll definitely keep an eye out for the snakes, doc."

The door shut and the doctor sat and wrote up the visit. He wasconvinced that O'Neill was recovered enough to go back to full normal duties. He was also sure the Major hadn't told him or the officers at his debriefings-'everything'. But they had managed to exorcise most of the demons and get the intelligence and data the DoD wanted. He'd done his best; it was all he had to offer, especially on men who had been trained to resist certain techniques and therapies. Even when it looked like they were 'under' they weren't .And O'Neill had been outstanding at his job.

He worried that O'Neill like some other men he'd treated would always hang onto their experiences like an albatross. It would always be there.

He was reminded of something he'd heard about Indian Hindu's and their method of catching monkeys. The catcher put bananas in a narrow necked bell jar and waited. Sooner or later the monkey reached into the jar for the bananas but then found it couldn't remove its hand without letting go of the banana-the reason for sticking its hand in the jar in the first place. The monkey was too consumed with not losing the banana to just let go of it and run off to safety before the net closes in over him. The Doctor wondered how long O'Neill would be trapped with his hand in the jar telling himself that he'd told them 'everything' and nothing was going to get him caught in the net.

END

tbc in part 4 "Lost in Translation" set in SG1 season 2, after Gamekeeper/Prisoners.


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